


Two Way Street

by orphan_account



Series: ficlets [13]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Drinking, Established Relationship, Eventual Happy Ending, James "Rhodey" Rhodes is a Good Bro, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Protective Pepper Potts, Smoking, Steve Rogers Feels, Tony Feels, but tony more than steve, dum-e butterfinger and u, everything is messy its my ambience lets roll with it, steve and tony still meets up for sex post cacw, they didn't really breakup but kinda did?, they're just mad at each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:40:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24492907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “Where’re you going?”“Smoke.”He doesn’t know what makes him say it, but it comes out eager, “You can smoke here, I don’t mind.” He doesn’t. He’s got no asthma to worry about these days.“No thanks,” Is the curt reply, followed by a mumbled, “Can’t stand your fucking face,” and Steve knows –Personally, nothing really stops between Steve and Tony after Siberia. But everything else changes.
Relationships: James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: ficlets [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1551151
Comments: 17
Kudos: 110





	1. Steve

**Author's Note:**

> basically i wrote a post cacw after-hatefuck scenario for a friend but me being me writing post cacw is basically picking at scab so i kept adding and kept adding until 800 became 2k words so here we are *facepalms in shame*

He doesn’t want to ask, but he needs to know. “You’re leaving?”

The answer doesn’t come immediately. Instead, it’s _after_ re-zipping the pants, pulling down the shirt. _After_ checking out the reflection and picking up the phone. “No.”

“Where’re you going?”

“Smoke.”

He doesn’t know what makes him say it, but it comes out eager, “You can smoke here, I don’t mind.” He doesn’t. He’s got no asthma to worry about these days.

“No thanks,” Is the curt reply, followed by a mumbled, “Can’t stand your fucking face,” and Steve _knows_ –

Steve knows, Tony doesn’t mean to hurt him half of the time. But this one feels intentional. This one feels aimed straight to his fucking heart and goddamn does i _t hurt._

He knows Steve’s enhanced. He knows Steve can hear below audible decibels. He fucking _knows_ and yet –

The slam of the sliding door reverberates through its attached wall and Steve glares at it with his head in his hand, vision blurred and eyes rimmed red. Chocking on his own tears.

It’s his fault. He reminds himself.

And some, Tony’s. A part of him reminds. 

It’s a two-way street. Always. Steve would take 60% of it willingly, but Tony has no right to behave as if he’s completely innocent.

He blinks, facing away from the fallen tears with a sniffle to where Tony stands, outside.

The rails rusty, its old paint - a deep shade of maroon which he can see from where he is on the bed - peeling.

It’s windy. Tony’s hair dancing to it, bouncy soft curls, untamed by gel in the early hours of morning. Its early spring and Steve knows, without feeling, that it’s cold outside.

Lately it’s been such. Crisp and freezing, and he burrows his exposed legs into the blanket pooled around his naked waist, a shiver running down his spine at the mere thought of ‘freezing’.

But Tony’s fearless. He’s naked against the weather, only a layer between his skin and the wind and he looks so… carefree, leaning against the railing. Cigar hanging in between his pursed lips, and it’s a compelling sight for Steve to pick up a pencil and draw.

He’s facing away from Steve. These days, it’s been like that between them. None of their ends meet.

But he’s still stunning.

He takes Steve’s breath away. Just like that.

Because he’s Tony.

Steve takes five breaths in, four out and he falls back into the bed.

The ceiling’s peculiarly white for a cheap motel.

The thought of its price promptly brings forward the reason for their choice. The hasty decision to just find somewhere where they could touch each other, feel one another in peace. After six long months of radio-silence.

Idly, he runs a hand over the empty space next to him. If he presses harder, he thinks he can still feel the heat of Tony’s body.

The sheet’s a little crusty in patches and he knows it’s supposed to be filthy but something soars within him because that’s proof.

That’s evidence of what happened between them had actually happened last night and Steve has not just dreamt all about it in pure desperation.

He misses Tony. He still does.

Even with his back turned towards him, six feet down South, Steve still misses Tony. He does.

Last night, they had been unimaginably close. Intertwined till everything was tangled and twisted around them and yet, Steve remembers wishing he could tell Tony how he really feels for him.

Because honestly, he doesn’t think Tony knows.

And it’s not only Tony’s fault because Steve is a coward too. Two-way street, remember?

Steve thinks he could kiss his love and affection into Tony’s skin but Tony is so _technical_ , he needs to hear it.

Steve would draw patterns, trace words and dreams across Tony’s chest, but Tony is yet to hear them.

Because Steve forgets. Sometimes, somethings, you need to say them. Out loud, to be heard.

So, when the door slides open and Tony walks in, Steve turns to him and says, “I love you.”

His head’s in a space. It’s too far astray from their reality. Still stuck in the past, running over mistakes, reinventing what’s already done and dusted.

It’s why when he says it, he doesn’t expect Tony to disregard him. 

In his head, the worst Tony does is scream at him until all of his frustration is gone. And then reject him. If he cannot accept him.

In reality, Tony stops, closes the door and he pretends like he didn’t even hear it.

He takes off the shirt, takes off the pants, puts his phone back on the nightstand and buries his face into the pillow.

The silence that follows is suffocating. Steve’s head feels like it’s building in pressure with every second that passes and enough and enough and enough and yet –

It doesn’t explode.

It’s never enough.

Tony falls asleep, and Steve stays awake.


	2. Tony

"This is stupid," Pepper tells him when he returns.

He takes out his phone and wallet and walks past her to the kitchen. "I've been less."

Her disapproving huff is the last thing he hears about his... ‘weakness’ before they go back to business.

The thing is, it's not an addiction. It's not really a familiarity either.

It's not depriving him of anything or making him fall back into habits.

It's just... what it is.

-

"It's Steve, isn't it?"

"I'm not sure what you're talking about," he hides behind another shot. Twelfth. Or fifteenth, he's not really sure.

"Okay, we're stopping at that," Rhodey takes away the glass.

Tony rolls his eyes at him, "I can hold my alcohol."

"Yeah," his best friend of 30 years says, "I've seen that."

Giving up, Tony walks away from the bar to the pool table. The white ball calls to be picked up so he does that.

"Did you know there are... 26 English alphabets?" He muses aloud, "And about 20 to 30 thousand words which can form over - let's say - infinite?" He turns to Rhodey and finds him right there.

Because Rhodey is always there. Right there.

"So, about an infinite number of possible sentences to express -," he burps, losing the trail of that sentence.

But the sharp quirk of Rhodey's eyebrow puts him right back on track.

"And he knows at least five languages. Or three. Fluently." His fingers squeeze around the white ball like he could do it any harm.

It's impossible but it's instinctual. He hurts, and he wants to hurt back.

"And it took him burning everything to the ground to tell me how he feels." He whispers it into the night air.

He doesn't want Rhodey to hear that. It's too intimate, too close to where the wound is and he's still shattered to pieces.

But he knows. He knows, Rhodey hears it.

But Rhodey is the best!

Because even if he heard it, he pretends like he didn't and he says, "Let's put you to bed. Sleep it off. Better be prepared when Pepper comes to chew our heads off."

Pepper.

Yes, of course. There's Pepper.

"I tried, you know," he plops on the bed.

"Yeah, I know," Rhodey takes his shoes off.

"She deserves someone way, waaaaayyy better than me."

Rhodey's hand is warm against his forehead as he tucks him in. "Can't say I disagree."

"You think I deserve Steve?"

It's blurted out, out of breath, out of no fucking where.

Rhodey stills, then he moves. Painfully soft as if he's trying hard not to be stilted.

He pats Tony's cheek, asks Fri to turn the temperature down a bit and he says, "Goodnight, Tony."

They don't talk about it after. Tony doesn't ask him again but he saw the footage of that night and Rhodey looked as if he was eighteen again.

Wiry, lost and trying hard to protect Tony. Tony remembers lamenting to him one night. Saying how he thought he deserved every beating he got from Howard.

And he remembers Rhodey seething. Remembers Rhodey pulling him by his collar and hissing, "Don't you ever think you deserve that."

It's that same look on his 45 years old face, now.

It's what tells Tony that Rhodey hasn't forgiven Steve even if shakes his hand to welcome the Rogue's back.

That doesn't stop Tony from going back.

Because to Tony, it's neither addiction nor is it a habit. It's just, Steve, and it is, what it is.

It's like tiny harmless pecks. At least that's how it starts. Before it grows into pierces and later, stabs.

He hurts Steve, he knows he does.

It's because he's hurt and he wants to hurt back just as much.

He also knows that he's not completely innocent. But it's easier to pretend especially after he's lost everything.

_Every. Thing._

_-_

Despite all the pain, they never ever say, "Let's stop this."

It's because they know they can't, Tony thinks.

It's because, they're moon and sun and gravity and everything that's ‘meant to be’.

It is, how it is.

Tony doesn't kiss him. Not on the mouth. Because that hurts way too much.

It's too real. It's love and forgiveness and _I trust you_ which he doesn't.

Not yet. Not anymore.

He used to. But that was then before Steve destroyed them.

Now he's tired. He's stopped thinking about it and he's just falling. He's letting gravity tip him where it wants him to be. And it wants him to be with Steve.

So here he is.

"Can I visit the bots?" Steve asks after another one of their acid-trips. That's what Tony dubs them, because he doesn't think when he's going through it.

At the front of his mind, there's "How dare you." The same thing he wanted to say when Steve first said "I love you".

But in the back of his head, there's Dum-E hovering by Steve's once designated space. There's Butterfinger spinning spanner waiting for him and there's U who beeps sadly at the old undiscarded sketches nobody's allowed to ask about.

There's Steve in his space since the day he entered and he'd forgotten to leave a manual on how to erase him after he'd left them.

So, he's _still there_.

His memories. His footprints and ghosts of his words, his scent, his fucking laughter hanging in the air suffocating Tony every time he enters in there.

He's never told anybody, but he's been working from Bruce's old lab.

He doesn't have to tell anybody but Pepper knows and Rhodey knows too and they're all those whom matters.

He's got the bots still left in his old workshop and it hurts that it can't be regular but he visits them every weekend.

He pats them and if he'd only met Steve a few hours before, he sits by them longer and he allows himself to reminisce.

When everything was simpler.

"Why?" Tony asks him instead.

He's warm and big next to him. He's Steve, he's everything Tony needs and gullibly, he feels _complete_.

"I miss them."

He hesitates before he admits, "They miss you too."

"I miss you," Steve exhales.

Relentless.

"Don't," Tony warns him.

This is it. This is where he draws the line and he hopes to God, Steve takes the hint.

But Steve is Steve; _Steve,_ and stupid.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I love you."

And he moves to grab Tony. Pulls him by his waist until they're spooning. Tony's back to Steve’s chest.

"I know you can't look at me. I know you can't forgive me yet." He murmurs, lips brushing the shell of Tony's ear. "That's alright. I can wait. Just. Just, let me hold you."

"Let me love you."

And what should Tony say that he hasn't already?

_I hate you? Go away? Leave me alone?_

How can he, because they're all lies?

He loves Steve. He wants him to stay. He wants him to never leave Tony alone. Ever again.

He just... hasn't forgiven him yet.

He's still hurt. But he doesn't feel the need to hurt back now. And he thinks, that's probably is the first step into healing.

-

It goes both ways; the blame.

He brushes Steve’s hair back from his forehead and couldn’t tell him, “I’m sorry.”

He couldn’t.

It’s there. Right on the tip of his tongue, but he simply, couldn’t.

So, he kisses him.

For the first time since a very long time, Tony tips his head down and kisses Steve.

He lets everything pause around them. Lets them hang. The time, the air, the slow thrust of his hips as he fucks into Steve –

He lets it all pause.

Just a second. A second too long for a long due apology. Unsaid, sealed and exchanged; _please._

Steve doesn’t say it, but he does in his own way.

Traces of patterns across Tony’s skin, sketches of confessions and dreams. It’s his way of communicating. Never through words but through everything else.

Maybe it’s why Tony kissed him.

Didn’t say sorry, but pressed it into his mouth for him to keep.

Because he knows Steve would hear him.

A change, he thinks. They’re trying. To tell and listen. To communicate.

Steve’s worded “I love you” and Tony’s kissed “I’m sorry.”

I’ll try your ways and you’ll try mine.

-

On the day he brings Steve to see the bots is the day he feels truly healed.

His scabs are peeled and his wound still pink. But it’s no longer sore and it’ll scar beautifully.

He watches Steve entertain the bots and he smiles freely.

When Steve looks at him, he doesn’t hide. Doesn’t even try. He shows him proudly.

_I’m ready now._

Like a butterfly broken out of its cocoon, he’s brighter, stronger and wiser as he takes Steve’s hand into his.

He’s calmer, humbled and happier when he kisses him on the lips.

Presses Steve’s hand over his chest and he tells him, “Be careful with this.”


End file.
